I'll meet you there
by Little Lotte Daae
Summary: Dun..dun dun dun...dun dun DUN!!! to make up for my long absence, i present you with a new fic!!! its my first stab at a marauder's deal...not a love/hate, but it is L/J...well, just R/R!


"ARRGGHHHHH!!!!"  
  
Seventeen-year-old James Potter shot upright in his bed. Struggling to open his eyes, the deep velvety redness from his closed hangings began to come into focus. Blindly, he stuck his hand out of the parting and seized his glasses from his bed stand, managing to knock off several other things at the same time. He swore under his breath and threw open his hangings, blinking in the bright winter sunlight coming through the drafty dormitory window. Sirius Black was hoping on one foot at the end of his bed, a look of utter fury on his face as he screamed obscenities to no one.  
  
"Bloody Hell! Stupid piece of."  
  
"Sirius!" James said loudly, leaping out of bed. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Yes, what on Earth are you shouting about?" Remus called, sticking his head out from his hangings. The back of his light brown hair was sticking straight up, as the front hung into his eyes, one of which he was still fighting to open.  
  
"It was that blasted Lily Evans! I know it!" Sirius fumed, rubbing his left foot, as he settled onto the end of James' bed. James looked down to see a small pool of blood on the floor.  
  
"What's going on? I heard shouting."  
  
Peter Pettigrew had just sidled off his own bed and was now standing amid the chaos, staring blandly at them all, a confused look working on his chubby face.  
  
Remus stepped up beside him.  
  
"You're bleeding," he said, wide-eyed, as he bent down to examine the wound.  
  
"Brilliant observation, Moony," Sirius snarled.  
  
James took a step back, rubbing his forehead. He could feel a headache starting to work its way up from his neck. It would take him all day to be rid of it, he thought bitterly.  
  
"Wha.What's this?" Peter said, suddenly stooping to pick something up off the floor.  
  
A small glittering object was clenched in his right fist. Remus stood suddenly and seized it from him.  
  
"It's a tack," he said thoughtfully, turning it over.  
  
Sirius took out his wand and waved it across his foot, healing it instantly.  
  
"Of course," he said quietly, standing back up. "Leave it to Evans to be as unoriginal as possible."  
  
"Well, we're not sure it was her, are we?" Remus asked, looking at him in surprise.  
  
"Oh it was her, alright," Sirius seethed. "I can guarantee it."  
  
Peter looked nervously around at him.  
  
"Well.well, we should give her a chance, shouldn't we?" he squeaked.  
  
"Oh, come off it, Wormtail," Sirius snapped. "Just because you fancy her."  
  
"Sirius!" Remus said sternly.  
  
Sirius fell silent, staring at Peter sullenly.  
  
James yawned loudly. The other boys looked at him.  
  
"What time is it?" he asked groggily.  
  
Remus walked over to his bed stand and picked up a small silvery object, which was emitting several odd noises and an occasional puff of smoke.  
  
"Half past ten," he concluded.  
  
James stretched. "Well, seeing as we're all up, we might as well go down to breakfast."  
  
"Look, I don't know how you can be so damn cheerful about this!" Sirius said indignantly. "I've just had a tack stuck in my foot! I might need a tetanus shot now!"  
  
"Then we'll stop at the hospital wing on our way to the Great Hall," James said smiling. Sirius glared.  
  
"Well, there's no sense in fighting," Remus said, smoothing his hair. "Let's just go down to breakfast, and." He suddenly stopped speaking. He was staring blindly at a spot some five feet about James' head.  
  
"Moony, what're you."  
  
But the question was never finished. Peter had taken a step back in fear, snapping a wire. There was a sound like a gunshot, and all four boys looked up in time to see a load of liquid come crashing down from the ceiling. In seconds, they and all of their belongings were drenched in dark purple ink. James lifted an arm in disbelief, and saw that he was dripping wet. Remus was spluttering, wiping his soaking hair out of his eyes.  
  
On top of it all, a piece of paper suddenly fluttered down, landing neatly on Sirius' four-poster.  
  
He seized it immediately, and it, oddly enough, remained completely dry.  
  
In the curvy green scrawl that they all recognized immediately were three simple words:  
  
  
  
Good Morning Boys!  
  
  
  
  
  
"You know what this means," Sirius said, scowling and crumpling up the paper.  
  
Peter looked terrified. "What does it mean?"  
  
"War," James said, staring around at his ruined belongings. 


End file.
